the way you look at me
by KelliP
Summary: 'He kisses her. Her heart stops. And then she's kissing him back.' Post 3x13 Knockdown AU, in which Josh isn't in Africa.


(Shh. You didn't see me posting this.)

**the way you look at me**

X

Who a person kisses

sleeps with

or even marries

is of no real consequence.

it's who a person

misses

in the middle of the night

who matters,

who is of

most importance.

- b.t.

X

He kisses her. Castle.

Castle is kissing her.

They're in the middle of a dirty side-street with no ideas left but then her cheeks are cupped gently between his warm palms and his lips close over hers.

Her heart stops. She breaks the kiss and backs away, searches his face.

And then she's kissing him back.

X

She tugs off her boots the moment her front door closes behind her but her feet are still unsteady as she steps into her bedroom. She moves through the motions of her routine quickly – gun, watch, necklace – then sheds her clothes, throws them deep into her hamper and heads for the bathroom. She opens the faucet for the hot water and moves her fingers to the cold, hovering for a moment before she forgoes it and drops her hand to her side.

When the steam billows around her feet she steps into the stall and closes the glass door behind her. A hiss slides off her tongue as she moves under the spray of the shower but she doesn't move away. She needs this, needs the scalding spray of the water to burn away her betrayal, to scrub her skin with soap until she feels clean again.

It isn't long before her skin turns red and she begins to sway under the water, the haze around her dizzying with no escape. Her eyelids flutter shut and she feels the tickling sweep of her lashes on her upper cheek, a droplet rolling off the corner. It's serene, the pressure so welcome against the silk of her skin, nothing but the thunder of the water as it falls to her tiles.

"Kate?"

She startles.

Josh.

She forgot he was going to be here; didn't even see him when she'd arrived home. He's on the early rotation this week and her place is closer to the hospital.

His voice sounds again, disquiet prickling at the back of his words. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she rasps quickly. Desperately. She doesn't want him in here. "I'll be right out."

Just above the cascade of the water she hears the bathroom door snick shut again. Her eyes close.

She can't face him. Not after tonight.

But she doesn't have a choice.

Shutting off the water before it runs cold she steps out onto the bathmat, her toes curling into its soft tangles. The white-framed mirror above her sink glistens with a heavy fog but she doesn't wipe it off, no desire to face herself. Instead she reaches for the red handle of her toothbrush, her fingers clenching around the handle so tight her skin stretches thin and white over her knuckles. Squeezing more than enough toothpaste on the bristles she brushes her teeth vigorously until she cleanses the taste of _him_ from her mouth.

It doesn't help.

Droplets of water slip from her tangled hair and slide down the arch of her back. She raises her fingers to comb them through the knots but all so suddenly it's too much. She can still feel the slide of his hands from her cheeks to her jaw, feel the tangle of his fingers in her hair as he'd drawn her in deep.

After rolling a messy bun on the top of her head she searches for something to wear, unable to face her boyfriend exposed. One of Josh's undershirts hangs from a hook behind her bathroom door and she reaches for it on instinct, moves to pull the soft cotton over her frame. She's tugging it over her head when she catches the scent. It smells like him.

Her fingers curl at the hem and she rips it off again, discards it into the shadows of the room before donning an old pair of sweats and a creased singlet instead. Opening the door Kate shivers as the heat from the bathroom and the cool of her bedroom battle against her flesh. She can feel his eyes on her as she slips from the room but she can't bring herself to meet them. Instead she glances at the bed. The sheets on the right side are crumpled, evidence he's been sleeping for a while. She scrunches her nose. She had never brought herself to argue that she preferred that side of the bed.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

She bobs her head just once.

"Rough case?"

"Yeah," she grinds out.

"You want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "No. Just - "

A stretch of silence hangs empty between them until she hears his broken sigh. Bare feet scuff on the ground as he steps toward her. The heat of his hand circles her shoulder and his fingers squeeze gently, his lips falling to her skin, so warm.

So wrong.

"Come to bed, Kate," he whispers.

She does.

X

She doesn't fall asleep, the wrong man's arm around her waist.

His chest presses hot against her back, the heat searing through her skin, each breath warm as it enters and leaves her lungs. When the glaring red numbers tick over to three she gives up on sleep.

Josh has never been a heavy sleeper – a consequence of his years of surgical residency, he tells her – and so she takes her time slipping from the sheets. The stained concrete is cool against her soles and her toes curl up in a reflex, seeking warmth. Her fingers snag her winter robe from the hook by the door and she wraps it around her shoulders.

With one hand on her bedroom door she lingers for just a moment, watches Josh sleep. The realization of what she's done presses quick and heavy on her chest, a weight that sends her off balance. She stumbles out of the room, closes the door softly behind her, tries to leave her guilt in the shadows in the other room.

In the kitchen she fills the coffee pot with decaf and flicks it on. Leaning against the island she scrubs her eyes with her knuckles, heaves a weighted breath. Everything had changed so quickly.

They'd planned on spending the weekend together - her and Josh. But someone else had fallen ill and he'd volunteered to swap his shifts.

"We can postpone," he'd promised, a look in his eyes that told her they wouldn't.

So she ran to Castle instead.

The pot clicks off and she grabs a mug, fills it to the brim where the steam swirls up into the air. She heads for one of her armchairs, tucking her feet beneath her and burying her face into the plush collar of her gown to curl up against the bitter air of the early morning. Heat resonates across the ceramic, warming the tender skin of her hands and she almost smiles. Raglan was right.

A gunshot rings out in an echo of the last few days and her eyes close, mind already taken back.

Castle.

She fucked up. They both did.

She wants to blame him. Tries to tell herself that it was his idea; that it was just a rouse. That it was only a kiss.

She wishes she could believe that.

They both knew it was so much more. They knew it the moment they broke apart and their eyes caught and she leaned back in to claim his mouth with a drowning need at the back of her throat.

The images come sudden and unbidden, so bright in a beautiful technicolor, dancing at the front of her mind. Flashes of lips feathering over lips and his hands on her body and clothes falling to the floor. Of bare skin and open mouths and limbs tangled together. The press of his body and the drive of his hips and the sound of her name on his lips as they both fall apart.

X

"Kate?"

She bites down on her cheek and feels the bitter tang of blood swish across the lining. She lifts her eyes, finds Josh shuffling from the bedroom. Concern lines his face and it hits her like a punch to the chest.

She doesn't deserve it.

"Tell me what happened." His voice is low, imploring. It leaves guilt cracking like ice across her chest.

She swallows hard, trying to drown the truth of what she's done but it lurches in her stomach, climbs up her throat. "Nothing happened." She shakes her head, shakes off the lie and slides her empty mug onto the coffee table. "Just a rough case."

A hum shakes deep in his chest, rolling with skepticism, and his shoulders slump. He speaks on a tired exhale. "You should try and get some sleep."

One of his hands extends toward her, a peace offering hanging between them. Guilt that sits heavy in her conscious breaks free, crashing through her veins in a violent current that knocks hard in her chest.

She has to make this up to him.

Beckett stands and waits until her legs are steady and she moves toward his outstretched hand, clasps it with her own. Fingers squeeze hers and he tugs her forward, her body dragged into his broad frame and the cage of his arms. His palm slips from hers and hooks around her waist instead, sliding under the hem of her shirt to trace the ridges of her spine.

His forehead drops to kiss hers, her name a hot breath on his lips. "Kate."

And then he covers her mouth with his and her stomach roils violently because all she can think is that it is isn't the right mouth.

Josh breaks the touch of their lips but doesn't move away. Heads bowed together, she feels the hot wash of air from his lungs, the heavy beat of his heart. Gentle fingers skim along her hairline, tucking her still-damp hair behind her ears before mapping the contours of her face.

He doesn't ask her to follow this time. Just tugs her along with a broad hand clasped over hers instead. His eyes are dark as he closes the door behind them, the mood brutally shifting as he coaches her toward the bed. The arch of her shoulders stiffens, an attempt to stop the tremble of her spine as he slings one arm low at her abdomen, the press of his body at his back searing red scars of shame through her skin.

She wishes it felt right.

It only feels wrong.

X

**Thank you for reading. **


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